
X 



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THE BROKF.X CIRCLE. — SEE PAGE 19 



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CHRISTIAN LOVE 



CONTRASTED 



WITH THE LOVE OF THE WORLD 

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3ln (Kpiatolarg Narratbe. 



BY MRS. M. H. MAXWELL. 



EDITED BY DANIEL P. KIDDER, 

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PUBLISHED BY LANE & SCOTT, 

FOR THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION OF THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL 
CHURCH, 200 MULBERRY-STREET. 

JOSEPH LONGK.ING, PRINTER. 

1851. 



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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1851, by 
LANE & SCOTT, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern 
District of New-York. 



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Drew Th~olog. S«m. 
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i DREW THfiJLOCv 
SEMINAR 



V, 




PREFACE 



It is a matter of no small import, that 
the Divine principle of love stands first 
in the enumeration of the " fruits of the 
Spirit." Love, the first emotion of the 
regenerated heart, is the sacred badge 
which, throughout life's pilgrimage, dis- 
tinguishes the Christian believer from the 
unbelieving worldling, and is in itself a 
test so sure, that none need fear an im- 
plicit reliance upon its faithfulness; yet, 
so simple, that it can be understood and 
applied by the weak and unlearned. 
The following letters are but a feeble 



6 PREFACE. 

illustration of this Divine principle, it be- 
ing one which above all others, lan- 
guage has ever been powerless to de- 
scribe. Yet, as they are the natural, un- 
adorned expression of the heart's emotion, 
they may be of use in pointing the reader 
to the only right source of love, and of 
showing the heart without rest, until its 
love is fixed on God. 



CONTENTS 



LETTER I. 

JULIA TO MARTHA. 

The death of friends — Importance of religion — A bereaved 
brother-in-law — Little Daisy — Plans for the future — 
Events of a year Page 11 

LETTER II. 

MARTHA TO JULIA. 

Review of the news — Stale objections against creeds — 
Death of a child — Murmurings — A doubtful piety . 23 

LETTER III. 

DAISY TO HER AUNT JULIA. 

The little girl among her city friends — New dresses, gayety, 
and folly — Books — Bible slighted — The heart's wants — 
Bad habits — Dullness in prayer ......... 28 

LETTER IV. 

JULIA TO MARTHA. 

Proper use of our affections — Danger of loving the world — 
Correct views of Providence — Pure religion the regulator 
and test of our affections 37 



8 CONTENTS. 

LETTER V. 

MARY MOTLEY TO DAISY. 

Satire upon city follies— News from Linden — The Bible 
class — The inquiry meeting — Great change in Louisa — 
The pleasure and safety of loving God . . . Page 44 

LETTER VI. 

DA IS Y TO MARY. 

Preparations for a first appearance — Interruption — The 
party, accomplishments, &c 52 

LETTER VII. 

LOUISA TO DAISY. 

The love of a young disciple — Anxiety for a friend — Earn- 
est appeals against love of the world, and entreaties to 
love the Saviour 57 

LETTER VIII. 

TO DAISY, FROM HER FATHER. 

Aunt Julia complimented — A fashionable education recom- 
mended — Prospects of wealth 62 

LETTER IX. 

DAISY TO LOUISA. 

Fashionable follies — Misgivings as to the future . . 63 
LETTER X. 

TO DAISY, FROM HER AUNT JULIA. 

Dangers and snares of the young — Importance of character 
and principle — Good advice — Pledges of affection and 
prayer 67 



CONTENTS. 9 

LETTEE XI 

MARTHA TO JULIA. 

Death of a brother — Conviction of having been self-de- 
ceived Page 74 

LETTER XIL 

JULIA TO MARTHA. 

Earnest Christian advice 76 

LETTER XLTL 

DAISY'S FATHER TO JULIA. 

Polite excuses and worldly wishes 78 

LETTER XIV. 

JULIA'S ANSWER. 

Warm affection — Sound reason and sincere piety . . 80 
LETTER XV. 

LOUISA TO HELEN BATES. 

Mr. Jones — Helen's religious state — Story of a New-Tear's 
ball — Feelings and opposition of the young towards reli- 
gion — Daisy seeking the Saviour 82 

LETTER XVI. 

JOSEPHINE TO DAISY. 

Follies of a worldly-wise girl 92 

LETTER XVII. 

DAISY'S ANSWER. 

Right feelings, correct views, and genuine Christian ex- 
perience .... - 97 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 



LETTER I. 
JULIA TO MARTHA. 

Dear Martha,— I suppose that change 
makes for itself a pathway even across the 
prairies of the "far west;" and having 
heard nothing from you for months, I 
have feared, that with you, as with me, 
death has been walking side by side with 
love. In your last letter yoju spoke of 
a sick brother, of your mother's declin- 
ing health, and begged to know how I 
have borne the weight of life since pa- 
rents, brothers, and sisters have passed 
away. Alas ! my dear friend, I have some- 
times found it a weight grievous to be 
borne. Is it, indeed, five years since your 
family left Linden ? Well, if time is to be 
measured by experience, they should be 



12 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

many times that number to me ; for what 
have I not learned of life's uncertainties 
during that time ? 

You say, Martha, that memory dwells 
fondly upon by-gone days, upon the gleeful 
hours spent with me around your own, and 
my father's fireside. You thank Heaven 
that you have been spared the dreadful 
sight of the funeral pall in this home of joy- 
ful echoes ; but, my dear friend, where in 
all this broad, green earth will you find a 
spot where echoes of laughter, of merry 
voices, and of song will not die away ? 
There was no echo here for many an hour, 
save the low and mournful chime of the 
cricket upon the deserted hearth. You re- 
member my noble brother Herbert, and ask 
if I have never heard tidings of him. Yes ; I 
heard that he was laid in his hammock be- 
neath the blue waves of the sea. These 
mournful tidings came to us the very day 
upon which our beautiful little Imogene 
died. The double sorrow hastened mo- 
ther to her grave, and Flora, our gay but 
frail summer flower, soon followed. Then, 
Martha, how I clung to my father, and he 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 13 

to me ! His cough, which had for years 
been a familiar sound, suddenly became a 
note of terror. How I watched his sad 
face, and tried to be to him, not only the 
same happy Julia, but mother, and Herbert, 
and Flora, and Imogene too! But it was 
all in vain. The neighbors saw that he 
changed daily ; then how could I be blind to 
the sorrowful fact! As a last resource I 
sought relief in prayer. I read with a fixed 
and earnest attention the life of Jesus 
Christ during his sojourn upon earth. I 
studied the characters upon whom he 
lavished his tender sympathies, whom he 
pitied and relieved. Then, with renewed 
importunity, I sought his aid ; and implor- 
ingly asked if he was not still the same. I 
know not, Martha, how large a blessing 
would at that time have been bestowed 
had it been said to me as to the suppliant 
of old, " according to thy faith be it unto 
thee ;" for by a close examination of my 
motives at that time, I am led to think that 
prayer, as a dernier resort, is then not of 
faith, but merely an experiment. If thou 
canst do anything, have mercy upon us. 



14 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

There are human hearts which compel 
even mercy itself to take their last prop, 
before they will loose their hold on earth. 
Such was mine. 

My father failed from day to day, and 
before the autumn frost I laid him beside 
mother and Flora, with dear little Imogene 
sleeping at their feet. Then I was alone, 
and O what loneliness ! What a chasm is 
made when death takes but one from the 
family fold! But here all were gone, 
and a timid, shrinking child was left alone. 
You remember, Martha, the revival of reli- 
gion (in which many of our school-mates 
participated) during the last winter of your 
stay in Linden. You remember, too, how 
we talked together of the things that con- 
cern our everlasting peace ; for both of us 
were at that time awakened by the Spirit 
of truth. Can you call to mind our vain 
excuses, dear Martha ; how we deemed our 
earthly prospects too bright and joyous to 
be dimmed by religious restraints ? How 
little did I then know the true nature of 
religion, and its vital importance to my hap- 
piness ! The arms of love, ready to infold 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 15 

a guilty world in their kind embrace, were 
extended to me ; they offered to shield me 
from the storm, and be my hiding place 
from the windy tempest : but I chose rather 
to trust the world. My mountain was 
standing sure. What need had I of a 
covert ? God in his mercy has showed me 
this need. My dear friend, when " the 
rain descended, and the floods beat, and the 
winds blew," great was the fall of my house 
upon the sand ; but the privilege of build- 
ing again, and upon a more sure foundation 
was not denied me. 

" I built again, but on a rock — 
The ' Rock of Ages/ firm and sure." 

The long winter following my father's 
death was nearly gone, and I had determin- 
ed with the opening spring to seek out my 
sister Emma : for the new love which had 
sprung up in my once desolate heart, rather 
increased the fondness with which I thought 
of my only surviving sister. Emma was 
our eldest. She had married and moved to 
the South while I was as yet but a little 
child. Once, only, had she visited her 
home, and that for a short time ; but for 



16 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

months previous to my father's death, we 
had heard nothing from her. During the 
winter I had written several times, but re- 
ceived no answers : yet my heart yearned to 
see her ; and trusting in the protecting care 
of my Heavenly Father, I was about ready 
for my lonely journey. It was a beautiful 
evening in the early part of May, and I was 
to leave my home on the morrow. That 
dear old lady, Mrs. Morse, who has re- 
cently gone to her reward in heaven, was 
with me. We had been talking of the light 
that shineth in darkness — of the covenant- 
bow set in the cloud ; how love, which is 
the heart's food, often becomes like the 
waters of Marah, because it is drawn from 
earthly fountains : and then, at her request, 
I told how, in losing all, I gained an infinite 
good ; that my heart, wounded and torn, 
found for a time nothing to which its lan- 
guishing fibres could cling. It wasted with 
burning thirst till faith came, and smote the 
rock of the desert ; then the waters gushed 
out, they ran into the dry places like a river, 
and this world, which was become a barren 
and dreary waste, suddenly changed to " a 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 17 

place of broad rivers and streams." If you 
have tasted this living water, my dear Mar- 
tha, you will understand me, though I use 
the figurative language of Scripture ; if not, 
I would tell you plainly, that, bowed down 
with earthly sorrow, weary and heavy- 
laden, I came to Jesus Christ. The lan- 
guage of my broken heart was this : — 

" For love I sigh, for love I pant." 

And what was the kind response ? " Ho, 
every one that thirsteth, come ye to 
the waters ; and he that hath no money, 
come ye, buy and eat. Yea, buy wine and 
milk without money and without price/' 

I came, Martha ; and, to my inexpressible 
joy, found, that in losing every earthly 
trust, I had found my God. The blessed 
Spirit of adoption, sent forth into my heart 
by the Holy Ghost, was sealed and made 
certain to my faith by the infallible test of 
love, which is the first fruit of that Spirit. 
I was not obliged to be thus explicit with 
my old friend — she knew at a glance the 
sure evidence of adoption; and, as we 
talked together of its saving, healing, puri- 
2 



18 CHRISTIAN LUVL. 

fying power, our hearts burned within 
us. We were just raising a song of 
praise to God, when there was a low knock 
at the door. A carriage had stopped at the 
gate ; and, in the light of the moon, which 
shone brightly upon the piazza, I saw a gen- 
tleman with a little girl. 

" Is Mr. Hood at home ?" he inquired, 
as I opened the door. I told him that my 
father was in his grave ; that none of the 
family was left but myself and an absent 
sister. " And you," said he, in a trembling 
voice ; " you are Flora." " No," I replied ; 
" Flora is dead — I am Julia." " And I," 
said he, " am your sister Emma's husband ; 
and this little girl is our daughter." 

I clasped the child in my arms, and we 
entered the house together. Mother Morse 
had placed a lamp upon the stand, and I 
saw in its light that my brother-in-law 
looked pale and wan. 

I hastened to prepare some refreshment ; 
and as we sat down at the table, I ventured 
to inquire for my sister. He looked up 
with an expression of the deepest grief, as 
he replied, " She is numbered with those 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 19 

whom you have lost, sister Julia."* "O, 
not lost/' said I ; my faith kindling at the 
thought: "not lost, my brother, but gone 
before." "It is a pleasant dream," mur- 
mured my brother-in-law ; " I did not rob 
her of it, poor thing, nor will I you ; but 
life has no such dreams for me. It is all a 
black, horrid reality." Saying this, he 
clasped his hand upon his pale forehead, 
and remained silent. I knew by this 
that faith had not spanned his dark sky 
with its beautiful bow of promise ; and that 
the poor bleeding heart-strings, torn and 
riven, were groaning with deep complaint, 
but still recoiling from the only balm by 
which they could be healed. 

The child sat with her mild blue eyes 
resting upon her father. At last, tears 
rolled over her fair young cheek, and she 
broke into a gentle sob. "Don't cry, my 
Daisy," said her father, wiping her tears; 
"here is aunt Julia — you will love her, 
dearest. She is your mother's sister." 

The child now turned her sweet face 
upon me, and as I folded her in my arms 
° See Frontispiece. 



20 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

once more, and she returned my warm ca- 
ress, I trembled, lest my love should wan- 
der from its source, and again be left bleed- 
ing in the dust. 

That night, Martha, I knew something 
of the joy of grief. It was a wakeful night ; 
but it was sweet communing with my 
heart and God. I felt that my Heavenly Fa- 
ther, in his boundless love for me, had respect 
to my heart's earthly wants. He had sent 
me that fair young creature to love. How 
I blessed his name ! and as the moonlight 
fell upon her pillow, covered with bright 
golden locks, my heart seemed bursting 
with gratitude and joy. The next morning 
I saw that my brother-in-law assumed an 
appearance of cheerfulness and hope. He 
told me that, by a freak of fortune, he had 
suddenly lost a large estate. This, he said, 
would not have greatly depressed his feel- 
ings, — for he had the means at hand for 
making another fortune quite as ample, — but 
the death of his wife had quite unnerved 
him. He paced the floor for a time, and I 
was shocked at the haggard, care-worn ex- 
pression of his countenance. 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 21 

At last, resuming the conversation, he 
said, " Were it not for that child, I would 
fold my arms, and look upon life's race as 
run; for, what has been the end of my 
striving thus far ? Wealth and friends were 
the prize at the end of my race, and both 
have fled. Nothing is left me but that 
one heart's jewel, and for her I must strug- 
gle on." I could not help asking the poor 
man for what he would struggle now? " For 
gold," he replied ; " if man must chase a 
shadow all his life long, let it at least be one 
of glittering wings." 

Here he attempted a smile. My heart 
was pained for him, Martha. I tried to 
convince him that money was not the prin- 
cipal want of the soul. I told him, in the 
simple language of a " babe in Christ," how 
the aching void in my own heart had been 
filled. But it was too simple for him. He 
smiled complacently as on the evening be- 
fore ; murmured something about pleasant 
dreams for women and children, — "poor 
hearts," they would break without some- 
thing of the kind. Break, indeed ! I felt as 
though mine would break in view of such 



22 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

contempt for the cross of Christ. But he 
changed the subject; said that he had an 

only sister in the city of B , who was a 

widow, with but one child. Perhaps it 
would be well for his little Daisy to spend a 
part of her time there, in case her aunt de- 
sired it. I was pained at this suggestion. 
He perceived it, and said that his only mo- 
tive for such an arrangement, was the idea 
that his daughter might have greater ad- 
vantages in the city than here ; but he 
would leave the choice with her. After 
three years' residence with me, she might 
visit her aunt Portman, and decide with 
whom she would live during the remaining 
years of his absence. 

More than two years of that time has 
already expired. During this year, Daisy 
has received several letters from her aunt, 
who seems to consider her choice of living in 
the city as certain. The dear child shrinks 
from the thought of leaving me, but a few 
months' residence with her fashionable aunt 
and cousin may convert both Linden and 
aunt Julia into objects of indifference. But I 
leave it with the Lord ; I know that his 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 23 

love can find a balm for earth's deepest 
wounds. I am trying to teach my dear 
Daisy the way to Him. If she can only 
drink from the pure fountain before she is 
tempted to taste the impure streams ; or, in 
other words, if she will love her God before 
she learns to love the world, how much suf- 
fering she will escape ! 

I have written you a long letter, dear 
Martha; and, as you desire, given you a 
sketch of my history for the last five years. 
Will you write in return, and allow me the 
happiness of keeping a more regular and fre- 
quent correspondence with my early friend ? 
Your affectionate Julia. 



LETTER II. 
MARTHA TO JULIA. 

My Dear Friend, — I begin to be in love 
with what is long ; so your long letter was 
thrice welcome. The truth is, my dear 
Julia, I am shocked in looking at past years 
and noting their fleetness, at past hopes, 



24 CHRISTIAN LOVK. 

past joys, past pleasures, and feeling how 
short-lived they are. If there is anything 
long under the sun, I would be glad to know 
it. I can tell you of three long things — only 
three, in this Western world ; namely, long 
grass, long snakes, and long sermons : all 
else is short, as in Linden. 

But Julia, my dear friend, I had not 
dreamed that so full a cup of sorrow had 
been meted out to you. I had heard that 
your mother, and Herbert, and the lovely 
little Imogene were no more ; but I had 
hoped that your father, and Flora, and 
Emma were still alive. But they, too, are 
gone ; and from this waste of heart's love, 
from the broken fragments of earthly hopes, 
you have framed a creed. Pardon me, 
Julia ; if this curious creed could afford you 
one ray of light for your midnight darkness, 
I would let it alone : but I see that it does not. 
You look upon the Great, the Wise, and the 
Good, as standing ready to dash every cup 
of earthly happiness from your lips ; your 
shrinking heart is in perpetual terror of of- 
fending Him. I cannot receive such a doc- 
trine, Julia. Is there anything wrong in 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 25 

loving what is lovable — parents, sisters, bro- 
thers, friends ? God, our Heavenly Father, 
knows well that we cannot live without 
such objects of affection ; but how are we 
blessed in their bestowment, if the heart 
must be forever guarded in its love, 
guarded lest its doting fondness provoke 
its Maker to jealousy ? This language may 
seem irreverent, but I have recently been 
vexed exceedingly by this self-same thing. 
You remember my sister Carrie. She had 
a little daughter, " one bird of the prairie ;" 
one of the brightest, most beautiful crea- 
tures that ever gladdened a human heart. 
Well, she was taken violently sick, her life 
was placed in the hands of an ignorant 
quack ; as might have been expected, that 
precious life was thrown away. What a 
relief would it have been to my wounded 
feelings, if, after this dreadful sacrifice, we 
could have laid our bird in sorrowing si- 
lence upon her green earth-bed ! But no ; 
custom would count such a thing as 
strange. We must have a religious ser- 
vice. Then came the sacrilegious charg- 
ing of her death upon Him "who doeth all 



26 CHRISTIAN Lu\ I 

things well ;" and because motive must be 
assigned for a deed like this, it was shown 
that human love — too fondly, too lavishly 
poured out upon this precious little child — 
provoked the stroke of death. 

Could I believe this, Julia, and believe, too, 
that God is love ? Could I believe it, and at 
the same time remember Him who, with more 
than human love, took little children in His 
arms and blessed them ? No, I could not ; and, 
for your own heart's peace., dear Julia, do not 
you. I would love little Daisy, without any 
fear of offending against Heaven by so doing. 
You will never be condemned for setting 
your heart upon a motherless little child. 
I hope and pray that you may not lose her; 
but, if you do, find another object, and keep 
yourself alive by keeping something to love. 

I understand the figurative language of 
Scripture far better than the plain language 
of my friend Julia. I know how the 
parched ground of an earthly desert be- 
comes a pool to me. It is by believing that 
God is love ; not that he is a jealous God. 
And though I know not what you mean, 
dear Julia, by the " Spirit of adoption," I 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 27 

am not wholly without religious emotions ; 
and if, as you say, love is the first fruit 
of the Spirit, and the seal of adoption, per- 
haps I may claim a Christian hope. I have 
always loved the works of God ; and now, 
more than ever, from having little society, 
save that of my own family, I have more 
leisure to muse upon such things, and such 
musings are most salutary and grateful. I 
like to spend evening after evening in de- 
lighted contemplation of the starry heavens; 
and as their beautiful rays fall upon this 
ocean of waving grass, I often think of the 
innumerable company, which no man can 
number : for I know and feel, Julia, that this 
fair green earth of grass and flowers, with 
its fairer canopy of suns and stars, is but a 
faint type of the spirit's home. I believe 
that the soul is chastened and purified by 
such contemplations, and, thus refined from 
its grosser nature, may become " meet for an 
inheritance with the saints in light." 

I rejoice to say, that the health of my 
dear mother has greatly improved, and for 
this I am devoutly thankful. My invalid 
brother is now absent from his home. I 



28 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

must give you credit for more strength of 
soul than I possess, dear Julia. Sorrow 
like yours would draw the life-blood from 
my heart. A frequent and regular corre- 
spondence would be highly gratifying to me, 
as in other days. Your friend, 

Martha. 



LETTER III. 
DAISY TO HER AUNT JULIA. 

My Dear Aunt, — I promised to write very 
soon, and so I will ; but it will be a curious 
letter. I have seen and heard a great many 
things, and ought to find enough to write 
about ; but, when I think of these things 
separately, it seems to me, that they will 
look silly upon paper. You told me, aunt 
Julia, to write my thoughts and feeling : 
how I was impressed by the new objects 
around me. Then I must begin with my 
first night in the city. When the coach, 
man stopped at aunt Portman's door, and I 
saw such a large, splendid house, and two 
servants waiting to show me in, I had a 






CHRISTIAN LOVE. 



kind of glad feeling, that my aunt had 
things so nice. In the hall, which is hung 
around with handsome paintings, I met 
aunt Portman : she kissed me, but seemed 
in a great hurry to get me off up-stairs, and 
in following her, I saw that Belinda, who 
came after with my bandbox, and Jeffrey, 
who carried my trunk, looked at each other 
and laughed. When aunt Portman and I 
were alone, she said, " Your riding-dress 
is a thought too long, my dear; you had 
better get it off as soon as possible :" but 
this was not the end of our trouble ; for in 
unlocking my trunk, it was found, that I 
had not a single dress that was not a 
thought out of the way somehow. Aunt 
seemed very much vexed, though, she said, 
that it was no more than she expected ; 
people in the country had no taste, and 
knew nothing of the fashions. After look- 
ing my dresses all over, she told me to put 
on that blue muslin ; and I must tell you the 
truth, aunt Julia, though I had thought so 
much of that dress when it was made, and 
was afraid that I should sin against God 
by such a foolish pride, yet, now I felt 



30 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

ashamed of it, and all because aunt Portman 
said, that it was a thought too high in the 
neck. I am sure that I never heard so 
many thoughts on dresses before. 

There was so much said about dress, 
that I expected to meet company at tea, 
and was quite surprised when aunt told me, 
that we should take our tea in a quiet way, 
quite alone. Josephine was engaged with 
mantua-makers in preparing for a ball, after 
these the hair-dressers would. come; so that 
she would have time to eat nothing more 
than a piece of cake with a glass of wine. 
All this time I had not seen my cousin 
Josephine. Aunt Portman spoke English 
at the tea table ; but I understood nothing 
of half she said. She told me that she was 
delighted to find me of a light complexion, 
with blue eyes, for I should look divinely 
with pearls, which were her favorite orna- 
ment ; that Josephine was magnificent with 
rubies, but being a brunette, with a bril- 
liant dark eye, quite out-shone pearls. 

Then- she talked of "good taste," as 
being an " infinite blessing," and said, that 
she knew some young ladies, really fright- 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 31 

ful of themselves, who were superb when 
dressed. I could not understand all this, 
aunt Julia. I had heard the words divine, 
magnificent, and superb, but never heard 
them applied^ to gi?*ls before. After tea, 
aunt said, that she would like to do some- 
thing to amuse me, for it would be dull to 
spend a whole evening alone. I told her 
that I had spent many an evening with 
nobody but aunt Julia, and had never found 
it dull ; that we knit or sewed, talked, read, 
or sung by turns, and were often surprised 
to find our evening gone so soon. At this 
aunt Portman laughed, and said, that she 
would endure two years at Linden herself, 
if she could by that means learn the art of 
being happy alone. Then she tried to show 
me something about the game of chess : 
but I grew sleepy ; overturned the bishop, 
and nodded at the knight. " I see that you 
are tired/' said aunt, " and should retire. 
Josephine is getting very nervous, and can 
sleep but little after a ball ; she would like 
to have you occupy the same room with 
her." I felt a little sorry for this ; for I 
couldn't help thinking, that if I needed a 



32 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

place by myself at Linden, I should cer- 
tainly want one here ; but I made no ob- 
jection, and aunt went with me to a very 
handsome chamber, which seemed in great 
disorder. The rich carpet was strewed 
with curl-papers, broken perfume-bottles, 
shreds of lace, gauze, and satin, while the 
toilets, bureaus, chairs, and couches were 
covered with colored prints of ladies in all 
manners of dress ; and with these I saw a 
great many yellow-covered magazines, and 
books handsomely bound and gilded. These 
reminded me of the beautiful Bible present- 
ed by my dear aunt Julia, and of my pro- 
mise to read from it every night I re- 
membered it was left in the pocket of my 
riding dress, and asked permission to fetch 
it from aunt Portman's room. She told 
me that she had already given the riding- 
dress to Belinda, as I should have no fur- 
ther use for so unfashionable a thing, and 
had not thought of first searching the 
pockets ; but it was no matter, Bibles were 
plenty enough; so she kissed me, and sav- 
ing that she would send Josephine's maid, to 
help me to undress, bade me a good night : 









CHRISTIAN LOVE. 33 

I felt a little vexed about the Bible, be- 
cause it was a present from you ; but then, 
I thought, perhaps it would do the poor 
girl good : and after the maid was gone, I 
searched the room for another ; but though 
aunt said Bibles were plenty enough, I 
could find nothing but magazines, souve- 
nirs, romances, and books of poetry. So I 
sat down and repeated a chapter. But how 
confused I felt ! You know, aunt Julia, that 
you told me long ago, how, as I grew older, 
it would be difficult to find prayers written 
out expressly for me ; I might feel in my 
heart wants that were not expressed in writ- 
ten prayers, and then I should be glad to 
know that I might come with my own lan- 
guage to a throne of grace. I began to 
feel those wants of the heart, long before I 
left Linden ; and had sometimes felt greatly 
relieved by praying with thoughts and lan- 
guage of my own. I ought to have told 
you all this long ago, that you might have 
explained to me what I could not under- 
stand. When I first began to pray in my 
own language it was very pleasant. In the 
dark, stormy nights, when the wind blew, 
3 



34 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

and the rain beat upon our snug parlor- 
windows, I loved to go by myself, and 
ask God to take care of my dear lather. I 
knew that his Spirit moved upon the dark 
waters, and that he could command the 
raging ocean to be still. So I trusted in 
Him, dear aunt Julia, and was not afraid. 
And I have prayed for you a great many 
times, when you were sick, and when you 
were sad, and while I thought my sell' a 
pretty good girl. It was an easy way of 
having my wants supplied. But, after a 
time, I began to think more of what you 
had told me about the great love with 
which Jesus had loved me, and that he 
asked my love as a small return. Then I 
saw, aunt Julia, that I was not so good 
after all. I should have thought myself 
very ungrateful not to love you, when 
you had shown so much love for me ; 
but I had never once thought it ungrateful 
not to love the Lord Jesus Christ, though 
he had done more for me than my aunt 
Julia, or any other friend could do. I had 
loved you so well, that I tried hard to please 
you. 1 had often been happy in giving up 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 35 

my own wishes for your sake ; but I had 
never once asked, whether my ways pleas- 
ed the Lord, and somehow I didn't want to, 
neither do I now. I know that it is un- 
grateful, and I am ashamed to pray now as 
I used to do; but I must pray somehow* 
and, perhaps, you will think it best for me 
to use my old prayers again. I won't pre- 
tend, aunt Julia, that I think this is right ; 
but you will tell me what is right, I am 
sure. I was going to tell you, that after 
repeating the chapter I tried to repeat a 
prayer ; but somehow, what aunt Portman 
said about my looking divinely in pearls, 
would come into my mind, and I went to 
bed without knowing what I had prayed 
for. It must have been nearly morning 
when Josephine came home, and as I 
awoke suddenly and saw her, I thought 
that aunt was not greatly out of the way 
in calling her magnificent. I never saw 
any one dressed so richly before ; and when 
she stood there all glittering in jewels, as 
she was scolding the poor little maid for 
being so stupid, and sleepy, I thought of 
queens and princesses. After a time she 



36 CHRISTIAN LOYi:. 

came to my bed, said she was sorry to dis- 
turb me, but begged to know if 1 was in 
the habit of sleeping after two o'clock in the 
morning. I told her, that I had never been 
in the habit of lying in bed awake, that I 
usually found sleep when I found my pil- 
low, and was not often up before the sun. 
Josephine sighed, and said, that it would 
not be so with me when I began to go out 
of evenings. After a long time the poor 
sleepy maid was dismissed, and my cousin 
was in bed, but she seemed very restless, 
and at last I thought that she was crying. 
It seemed scarcely possible ; but, on listening, 
I found that she was really crying : so I 
spoke very kindly, and asked her if she was 
sick. She said, no ; her head ached shock- 
ingly, but then she was not sick. She beg- 
ged me to come and lie beside her, so I 
went ; and then she began to tell me of 
something that had vexed her very much, 
that Amelia Basil, whom she hated above 
all things, had been the star of the even- 
ing. I was so sleepy that I heard but half 
the story. 

Aunt and I took our breakfast alone, for 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 37 

Josephine is not expected to rise until noon, 
I hope that you will write to me often, 
dear aunt Julia, and please ask Emily and 
Mary Motley to write. Give my love to 
all the girls, and tell them that I shall not 
forget the sewing circle nor the Bible class. 
You told me to write always, whether I am 
happy or not. I am not really unhappy, 
aunt Julia, but I feel very restless. Is it 
not nearly time for us to hear from father ? 
you know that he promised to write. You 
won't forget to write, dear aunt, will you ? 
Yours affectionately, 

Daisy. 



LETTER IY. 

JULIA TO MARTHA. 

My Dear Friend, — I cannot allow you 
to think that my heart is in perpetual 
terror from any apprehension of evil from 
any source. I have no fear that my Hea- 
venly Father will dash any cup of earthly 
happiness from my lips, unless he sees in 



38 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

that cup a mixture poisonous to my future 
blessedness. You ask, dear Martha, where 
is the crime of loving what is lovable — pa- 
rents, brothers, sisters, and friends, whom 
God has given us, because the heart must 
have objects upon which to lavish its warm 
affection ? 

About two months before my sister Flora 
died, she planted a beautiful vine in our 
yard. After she had been in her grave for 
a short time, I saw that this vine, whose 
tendency was upward, had wandered from 
its parent bed, and was twining itself 
around an adjacent tree. Then its growth 
was rapid : but that it might be supported in 
its rapid growth, I saw that nature had 
provided tendrils to twine themselves 
around the branches; and thus supported 
and blessed, the vine increased in strength. 
But there came a change. One tendril 
after another waxed strong, and outran the 
branches. Then their tendency was down- 
ward. The strength of the vine was 
wasted upon these vagrant tendrils, till, at 
last, withered and feeble, it relaxed its hold, 
and followed them to the earth. What 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 39 

was the lesson? The home of the soul is 
with its God, — 

" It upward tends to his abode, 
To rest in his embrace." 

But because the soul is brought down and 
linked to an earthly mold, God has given 
it earthly props to sustain and assist its 
heaven-born love. The heart's fibres twine 
themselves around earthly objects. But 
what if the tendrils become too strong for 
the vine ? What if the streams waste the 
fountain ? Or, in other words, what if 
the soul is retarded in its heavenward 
course, and at last goes out after its earthly 
affections, like them, leaning upon broken 
reeds ? 

You see the result, Martha, for you 
know and acknowledge how all of earth is 
passing away. I cannot deny that God is 
Love. I feel it at this very hour; but 
while my heart rejoices in this assurance, it 
does not recoil at the thought of godly 
jealousy. Of what is our Heavenly Father 
jealous, Martha, if not of our own happi- 
ness ? Can our love add anything to his 



40 CHRISTIAN LOVi:. 

happiness, to his excellence and glory ? It 
cannot: and were his thoughts our thoughts, 
and his ways our ways, such love would be 
to him a worthless thing. But it is not ; for 
the high and lofty One who inhabiteth eter- 
nity stoops to ask our love : and all be- 
cause he loves us. Our happiness is dear 
to the heart of Infinite Holiness. He 
knows, as we can never know, the nature 
of the soul ; where is the centre of its hap- 
piness, and its native home. 

When my dear father was lying upon 
his bed of pain, he sometimes asked, though 
with apparent submission, 

" When -will the moment come, 
When I shall lay my armor by, 
And be "with Christ at home ?" 

I once asked him how a world unknown 
and invisible to mortal eyes could seem 
like home. " Ah, my daughter," said he, 
''the eye of faith has long rested upon that 
far-off country, as upon my native land ; 
and, as tie after tie has broken here, they 
have united with and strengthened those 
which are drawing me to that other shore. 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 41 

I shall not be a stranger there amid the ob- 
jects of my most ardent love." And thus 
he died, casting off the world which he had 
ever worn as a loose garment. His glad, 
free spirit went joyfully home, — 

" A home in heaven, when our friends are fled, 
To the cheerless gloom of the moldering dead : 
He went in hope, on the promise given, 
He will meet them there in our home in heaven." 

I remember your sister Carrie very well, 
and remember, too, that in the revival, to 
which I alluded in my last letter, she pro- 
fessedly gave her heart to God. If she has 
held fast her profession to this sad hour, she 
will not mourn her " Bud of the Prairie " as 
a sacrifice to ignorance. 

I do not say this to reproach you, dear 
Martha. Far be it from me to believe that 
our friends are always taken from this 
world by the design of Providence. Doubt- 
less, many of mature years go uncalled for 
into eternity, with many little children who 
might live to bless the world. But the 
promise standeth sure, "All things work 
together for good to them that love God." 
Our Heavenly Father, doubtless, sometimes 



42 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

takes little children from their parents; 
but it must be for a purpose worthy of his 
character, and faith still affirms that " He 
doeth all things well." 

You cannot have forgotten Mrs. Jarvis ; 
she has recently buried her fifth and last 
child, and to my own mind, it is a most 
affecting proof of divine benevolence. She 
never regarded her children in the light of 
blessings, lent from God. She has never 
welcomed them to this world with a loving, 
grateful heart. And when I think of her 
capricious, fretful manners, of the suffering 
which tender, sensitive childhood must have 
endured therefrom, I understand why the 
Great Shepherd has folded the little lambs 
to his bosom. He loved them better than 
did the mother. 

I should like to spend a moonlight even- 
ing with you upon the prairie ; but if the 
waving grass reminded me of the " innume- 
rable company of heaven," I should remind 
Martha that they were not refined and 
made meet for heaven by a poetic contem- 
plation of the moon and stars shining upon 
an " ocean of grass." No, my dear friend, 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 43 

they came up out of great tribulation, and 
washed their robes, and made them white 
in the blood, of the Lamb. I would not rob 
you of a well-grounded religious hope, 
Martha ; but do not forget that other foun- 
dation can no man lay than that is laid. I 
would not that my dear friend should build 
her house upon the sand. Love for the 
works of God is not a sufficient proof that 
we have tasted the first-fruit of the Spirit. 
Such love or admiration is often professed 
by those who are indifferent, if not strongly 
opposed to the Spirit of truth. 

But I will tell you, dear Martha, how 
you may know of the foundation for your 
religious hope. Ask yourself these ques- 
tions: Have I acknowledged the claims 
made by my Creator upon my love ; and 
feeling that these claims have not been met, 
that I have never loved Him with all my 
mind, might, and strength, have I repent- 
ed this wrong, and trusting in Christ as my 
Advocate, and his death as my atonement, 
have I sought pardon through him, and 
have I sure evidence of that pardon in the 
change of my heart's affection ? Do I love 



44 CHRISTIAN LOTS. 

the people of God ? Am I willing to bear 
the reproach of Christ ? 

If these questions can be answered in 
the affirmative, my dear friend, there is no 
longer conjecture, but joyful certainty in 
your case. You have entered by the door 
into the sheepfold, and may henceforth 
reckon yourself one of the Saviour's 
flock. 

My dear Daisy has gone to B . I 

love her, and mean, by the help of God, to 
watch over her present and eternal happi- 
ness, with the kind jealousy wherewith my 
Heavenly Father watches me. 

Write soon, dear Martha, and tell me 
frankly all about yourself. With kindest 
love to your family, I remain your sincere 
friend, Julia. 



LETTER V. 

MARY MOTLEY TO DAISY. 

My Dear Daisy. — Your kind aunt Julia 
came into our sewing circle yesterday, and 
read your letter. How we laughed over 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 45 

the short-comings of your Linden dresses ; 
"a thought too long, a thought too high, 
and a thought too narrow!" I am sure 
that city people must be very thoughtful. 
But, Daisy dear, you will need a new dic- 
tionary. Webster would be a Hottentot 

in the city of B . Your Aunt Portman 

should give you a catalogue of words with 
definitions, after this fashion : — 

Divine — A young lady with pearls. 
Magnificent — A brunette with rubies. 
Frightful — A lady in dishabille. 
Superb — The same, tastefully dressed. 
Taste — An infinite blessing, &c 

We all hope that your visit will be short 

at B ; we want you here, Daisy, and 

we need you, too. In the sewing circle, 
in the singing school, and the Bible class, 
we need your help. Your Aunt Julia looks 
lovely. You cannot find any one to love 
as you love her, Daisy, without you come 
to be so wicked as to love yourself su- 
premely. She read to us what you said 
about prayer, and seemed very anxious. I 
have felt just so, for some time. The 
trouble with us, Daisy, is this ; we have not 



46 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

a heart to love God. We ought to do as 
cousin Louisa has done. It was only a 
week ago last Sabbath that Mr. Jones was 
talking to the Bible class about loving God ; 
he said nothing, but what we had heard a 
great many times before, — that we could 
never be happy until we were Christians, 
&c. But Louisa, though she has always 
been very careless, sat and cried, as though 
her heart would break. Mr. Jones begged 
her to tell us why she was so distressed, 
and, after some urging, she said that she 
had loved everything better than she loved 
the Lord Jesus Christ ; and now. when she 
thought of how much he had endured for 
her, how long he had waited for her heart* 
she felt grieved and ashamed. Mr. Jones 
asked her if she was then willing to give 
her heart to the Saviour ? She said, " O 
yes, she wished that he would take it ; but 
she had made it so vile, that she feared he 
would not." I cannot tell you all that was 
said, but Louisa was invited to the inquiry- 
meeting that evening. She went, and 
spent the night with me. When we were in 
our room alone, she told me to go to bed ; 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 47 

that she could not think of sleep while her 
sins were unforgiven. I pitied her very 
much, but felt tired, and soon fell asleep, 
and slept until morning. When I awoke, 
Louisa was sleeping very quietly ; there 
was a tear upon her cheek, and as I was 
wiping it off, she opened her eyes and 
smiled. I felt a little funny, and asked her 
if she had come to be a Christian. She 
made no answer, but got up and dressed 
herself, and wanted me to go with her to Mr. 
Jones. I begged her to wait until after 
breakfast, but she said very decidedly, " No, 
Mary, this question must be decided before 
I eat." I felt really ashamed, and consi- 
dered it a thought too early for a call ; but 
Louisa always ruled me, you know. So off 
we started. Mr. Jones had just kindled a 
fire in the keeping-room, and all the rest of 
the family were in bed. Louisa had always 
before seemed afraid of Mr. Jones, and had 
often said that she didn't like him — (you 
know she was sometimes reproved for 
laughing in the class) — but this morning she 
caught his hand eagerly as soon as it was 
offered, and asked him if she might speak to 



48 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

him just a minute. He smiled very plea- 
santly, and sat down with us by the fire, 
while Louisa told her story in this way : — 
"I felt dreadfully, Mr. Jones, after I cam.' 
home last night, and told Mary that she 
might go to bed, for I could not sleep. Then 
I sat down to think of my past life ; but the 
more I looked at myself, the worse I felt 
It seemed to me that my sins were sinking 
me beyond the reach of hope. Then I 
remembered what was said at the inquiry- 
meeting about looking to Jesus. So I 
knelt again, but could not pray ; language 
was all gone. My heart seemed struggling 
to cast oft' its dreadful weight ; and, pre- 
sently, in looking to Jesus, that weight was 
gone. I felt alarmed, at first, but was so 
weary with my long struggle, that 1 fell 
asleep. What shall I do now, Mr. Jones ; 
my distress is gone ?" Mr. Jones was 
silent for a time, and then said. "If you 
were to select a company, with whom you 
would like to spend this day, Louisa, whom 
among the villagers, would you choose ?" 

And now, Daisy, I am sure that \<m 
would never guess whom Louisa honored by 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 49 

a selection. It was not you, nor I, nor 
Helen Bates, nor Harry and Tim Saun- 
ders ; but it was Mr. Jones, and your Aunt 
Julia. That was well enough ; but the 
queerest is to come yet. It was old Mrs. 
Ames, that very pious old lady, who wears 
such a plain bonnet; Mary Willis, who 
keeps a school at the poor-house ; old Mr. 
Crocker, who prayed in the dancing school, 
and broke it up. Louisa was perfectly se- 
rious ■; but it was too much for me — I 
laughed till I was ashamed. Mr. Jones 
smiled ; but he looked rather tearfully, too, 
and asked Louisa what she would choose 
as a theme for conversation. She said, 
immediately, that she would like to talk all 
day long of Jesus Christ, and his wonderful 
love for sinners. The tears now ran down 
Mr. Jones's cheeks. He took Louisa's 
hand in his ; and, kneeling down, thanked 
God that he had heard prayer — that one 
member of his class had been brought into 
the Saviour's fold. Then he prayed for the 
rest of us, and for the absent one — that, of 
course, was you, Daisy; and if you had 
heard his prayers, you would have thought 
4 



50 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

that something more than jjearls were 
needed to make you divine. He prayed 
that you might not become a lover of plea- 
sure more than of God. Louisa said, Amen, 
to this. 

When we rose from prayer, Louisa asked 
if the new love which she felt in her heart 
was a proof that her sins were forgiven. 
Mr. Jones told her that it was, and said, 
"I will explain it to you, my dear child. 
When you were wandering away from your 
God, his Spirit followed you. You some- 
times wished to flee from its presence, but 
felt that you could not ; yet you closed 
your heart against its mild entreaties, and 
would have none of its reproofs. At last 
you stopped to think, and opened your eyes 
to see the vile ingratitude of your sinful 
heart. You tried to cast out the idols 
which had usurped your Saviour's throne ; 
but they were too strong for you, you were 
compelled to yield the strife to Him. Then 
the work was soon accomplished. He cast 
out his foes, and bade his long-insulted 
Spirit enter in, and you are now tasting the 
first fruit of that Spirit, which is love." 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 51 

" O," said Louisa, " I am so happy, to think 
that the strife is past ; it seems to me, Mr. 
Jones, that I could call upon everything 
that hath breath to praise the Lord." 

Mr. Jones told her, that this emotion was 
joy, the second fruit of the Spirit ; and by 
reading the fifth chapter of Galatians, she 
would find what was the third, and fourth, 
and so on to the ninth. He told her, that 
while she allowed the Saviour the upper- 
most, seat in her heart, all the fruits of his 
Spirit would abound in her, and be sweet 
unto her taste. 

Mr. Jones talked some to me; but I 
didn't let him know how bad I felt. I 
can't help laughing to think I have told you 
Louisa's experience. Perhaps she would 
like to have me relate it for her at the 
Church-meeting, for she is to be baptized 
next Sabbath. I want you to write to us 
girls, before you get so divine, and superb, 
and magnificent, that you can't think of 
Linden. Yours affectionately, 

Mary. 



52 CHRISTIAN LOV1. 



LETTER VI. 

DAISY TO MARY. 

My Dear Friend, — There can be no 
doubt, but that you are the same Mary 
Motley ; and I am glad of it, though I know 
you ought to be better, and so had I. How 
could you tell me so much about Louisa ? 
But it was all right ; I should have been 
sorry not to know just how it was, though 
it made me feel so bad. 

Aunt Portman was getting me ready for 
my first party when your letter arrived. 
She said that a favorable first appearance 
was of " unspeakable importance ;" and the 
mantua-maker said, ' ; O, certainly, every- 
thing depended on that — a failure here would 
be shocking." So you may be sure, Mary, 
that I was feeling no little anxiety about 
myself, when your letter was brought in. 
Aunt told me that it was from Linden, and 
advised me not to read it, until the mor- 
row, for it might put me out of spirits, and 
that would be disastrous beyond concep- 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 53 

tion. But it was of no use to talk. I beg- 
ged to be excused for a moment, and ran 
up stairs, sat down, and tore open the let- 
ter, began to read and to laugh ; but pre- 
sently changed my tune, and began to cry. 
I forgot the unspeakable importance of 
looking well at the party, and allowed my 
tears to chase each other, as though they 
were running a race. Aunt Portman came 
up, and knocked at the door, and I brush- 
ed them away with all haste ; but tears will 
betray themselves, you know, and aunt was 
almost angry. She said, that it would take 
a whole half-day for my eyes to regain their 
lustre, and for my poor nose to get over 
being so sadly pinched. She said, that no 
young lady of taste ever cried so as to red- 
den her nose, or dim her eyes. Beauty 
was sufficiently fleeting without crying it 
away. Josey wished Linden to the North 
Pole ; and the mantua-maker thought that 
letters from the country were insufferable. 
But all this did not raise my spirits. I love 
Louisa dearly, and I felt as though she had 
separated herself from me as far as the 
east is from the west. I don't know why I 



54 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

should feel so. It seems to me, that I have 
always tried to do right. Have I ever been 
selfish or unkind, Mary. Have I been care- 
less and inattentive at Church, at the Sab- 
bath school, and at the Bible class ? It seems 
to me, that if I had wronged any one, I should 
be willing to make any restitution required. 
I would not mind doing a great deal, Mary, 
if I could only rid myself of this feeling of 
guilt. My aunt brought forward her pearls 
after the mantua-maker had arranged me 
in my new dress, which in their eyes was 
not a thought deficient in any thing. 

Then Josephine and I were placed side 
by side before the mirror, and stood full 
half an hour admiring ourselves, and talk- 
ing of the brilliant contrast. At the party 
I had but one thought, and that was my 
favorable first appearance. Josephine whis- 
pered to me several times, telling me to 
keep up my spirits, for they had inquired 
of her repeatedly the name of that little 
Hebe, and had declared, that I was per- 
fectly enchanting. I never had such curi- 
ous feelings before, Mary ; such a desire to 
be seen and admired. Perhaps this is what 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 55 

makes me feel so guilty. I ought to write 
aunt Julia about it ; but I know pretty well 
what she would say. Aunt Portman thinks 
it unfortunate that I have never learned to 
dance, and means to have me take private 
lessons. She seems to blame aunt Julia for 
neglecting my education ; but I am sure, 
Mary, that I am not so ignorant as many 
whom aunt calls "highly accomplished," 
and who are many years older than myself. 
I should be ashamed to hear such blunders 
in our " sewing circle," as I heard at the 
party last evening. 

Aunt Julia should not be blamed. She 
has tried hard to make me wise and good, 
and did not object strongly to my attending 
the dancing-school. She only told me that 
dancing was a great temptation to vanity 
and self-love ; and said, that many young 
ladies had been ruined by their great love 
for this amusement. 

I thought, Mary, that we should all find 
temptations enough in our way, without 
going abroad to seek them, so I gave up 
the dancing-school ; and was not sorry that 
poor Mr. Crocker went after his daughter 



56 GHRie n i « l >▼■. 

Susan, and by his exhortation and prayer, 
frightened the dancing-master away. I 

sometimes wish myself at Linden again, 
and always feel like crying, when I think 
of dear aunt Julia, there all alone ; but still 
there are reasons why I rather choose to be 
here. I cannot tell them, I am sure, and 
perhaps, should be ashamed to, if I could. 

You will remember me to Mr. Jones, it 
is very kind of him not to forget me in his 
prayers ; and, Mary, perhaps you had better 
try to be a Christian. It will be easier for 
you than for me. I should be sorry to lose 
you ; but I know that it is very dangerous 
to live in sin. It would be hard for me to 
be a Christian now, but when I get back 
to Linden, with aunt Julia, and Mr. Jones, 
and Louisa, to help me, it will be easier. 

Give my love to all the girls. I suppose 
that Ellen Bates has gone away to school. 
Louisa will try hard to make a Christian of 
her, they are so intimate. Write again, 
dear Mary. As ever, your friend, 

Daisy. 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 57 



LETTER VII. 

LOUISA TO DAISY. 

My Dear Daisy, — Mary Motley was so 
much afraid of answering your last letter, 
that she begged me to write for her. She 
says that you need some good advice, and 
it would look ridiculous for her to give it. 
You have not requested a letter from me, 
and perhaps would rather receive one from 
Mary ; but I love you, dear Daisy, and feel 
so desirous of doing you good, that I will 
run the risk of appearing impertinent. You 
remember, Daisy, that morning when we 
stood under the elm tree upon the common, 

and talked* about your going to B ; you 

said, that we could continue to love each 
other just the same as if you were here, 
that distance had nothing to do with hearts : 
but in your letter to Mary, you speak of 
once loving Louisa, and of being separated 
from her now, " as far as the east is from 
the west." Is it because I have given my 
heart to the Saviour? Do vou love me 



58 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

less for that ? I thought much of this after 
reading your letter to Mary, and something 
whispered to my heart that the stranger-like 
feeling might be the beginning of that 
"great gulf" spoken of in the Scripture. 
The thought cost me some tears, dear 
Daisy; and I prayed with all my heart, that 
God would not allow you to love me less, 
because I love Him. For how can we 
doubt the final separation between those 
who love the Lord, and those who love 
him not, when we see the beginning here ? 
O, Daisy dear, it is not our Heavenly 
Father's will that drives us away in our 
wickedness ; it is the free choice of our sin- 
ful hearts. You know that Louisa was 
once the favorite among the young people 
at Linden. But it is no longer- so. They 
are not unkind to me. (It is true that some 
among them call me the "young saint," 
and such like names, — a small thing com- 
pared to what my Saviour endured for 
me.) But there is a coldness, and distance 
of manner, an effort to avoid my society, 
which is evident; and, I will confess, pain- 
ful to my feelings. And why is it. Daisy ? 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 59 

I never loved my young friends as I do now. 
My anxiety for their present and eternal 
happiness is so great, that it often deprives 
me of sleep ; but it is not Louisa whom 
they dislike ; they do not shun me, Daisy ; 
it is the " Friend of sinners," whom I have 
acknowledged as my best friend, and, is 
therefore, accounted a rival. They have a 
controversy with the Lord, dear Daisy, and 
where is it to end ? They draw a dividing 
line between themselves and those who love 
Him, and every day of sin widens this 
breach; no wonder, then, that at the last 
it becomes a "great gulf/' which cannot 
be passed. 

Dear Daisy, shall I see you, and Mary, 
and Helen thus separated forever from all 
that is happy and holy ? You have already 
drawn that dividing line. Your hearts are 
separated from those who seek the Lord, 
" as far as the east is from the west," and 
you are wandering farther and farther away. 

My dear Daisy, can I bear to let you 
go ? O, my heart grew sick when I read 
of your standing before the mirror with 
cousin Josephine, and admiring the " splen- 



6i) CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

did contrast." You will not think me ill- 
natured, dear friend, if I ask you to look 
forward a little, and think of other contrasts. 
Compare yourself decked with pearls and 
costly array, to the same poor self wrapped 
in the winding-sheet, and moldering be- 
neath the coffin lid. This would be an 
awful contrast ; but not so awful as will be 
that seen by an assembled world, when the 
dead, small and great, will stand before God. 
What a contrast then between those who 
have loved Him, and those who loved this 
present world ! But I will not believe, Daisy, 
that you can choose the paths of folly, reject 
your Saviour, and be found at last upon the 
left hand. You have no intention of that. 
But why will you grieve the Holy Spirit 
from your heart ? — 

" He -who all your life has strove, 
Wooed you to embrace His love." 

I know very well that you would not 
treat an earthly friend as you do the Savi- 
our. You would not wrong us, any one of 
us, without making immediate restitution. 
Yet you wrong Him knowingly. You 
violate His commandments, treat Him with 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 61 

the coldest neglect, and open your heart to 
the most foolish of earthly love, while you 
close it against love so wonderful, and so 
free ; and yet you ask, Mary, what you 
have done ? Why you feel a weight of guilt 
upon your heart ? If you have ever been 
selfish and unkind ? No, Daisy, not as it re- 
gards your earthly friends. Have you ever 
been inattentive at Church or the Sabbath- 
school ? No, Daisy, you would not treat 
your pastor or teachers with disrespect. 
But how have you treated the Lord Jesus 
Christ? Will you allow your own con- 
science to answer that question ? Go to 
your chamber, put all thoughts of your pre- 
sent vain pursuits far from your mind, bow 
meekly before your God, and ask, I- Where- 
in have I robbed thee ?" Then listen while 
the Spirit answers. And if it shows you 
vile ingratitude, and a "heart deceitful 
above all things and desperately wicked," 
do not despair. The Lord Jesus Christ 
will take our hearts, sinful as they are, and 
all we have to do is to lay them at his feet. 
Helen has gone away to school. She is 
already half-persuaded to be a Christian. 



62 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

When shall I see her and you, dear Daisy, 
and Mary, altogether persuaded ? In pray- 
erful waiting for this, I remain your friend, 

Louisa. 



LETTER VIII. • 

TO DAISY, FROM HER FATHER. 

My Dear Child, — This letter must tra- 
verse the ocean before it reaches you ; but 
the love that dictates these lines has fleeter 
wings. It seeks you, hour by hour, so that 
no ocean wave can roll between your 
father's heart and you. I have nothing 
left but you, my daughter ; so I live to 
make you happy. You have, doubtless, 
before this time, left Linden, for a home 
with your Aunt Portman, — this will be 
decidedly for the best. I greatly admire 
your Aunt Julia ; she very nearly resem- 
bles your mother, both in person and man- 
ner ; but you could not there be fitted for 
the circle in which I wish you — not only to 
move but to shine. Your Aunt Portman 
mingles with good society, and knows what 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 63 

is requisite for such a station. You may- 
be guided by your Aunt Julia in all studies 
save those relating to fashionable life ; but 
in those your Aunt Portman will, doubtless, 
be the best judge. 

I am rapidly accumulating wealth for 
you, my Daisy, and I ask no reward for my 
toil but this, that I may find the idol of my 
heart worthy her father's love. With kind 
remembrances to your aunts and cousin, 
I am, dear daughter, 

Your affectionate father. 



LETTER IX. 
DAISY TO LOUISA. 

My Dear Friend, — I am not so wicked as 
to love you less because you have become 
a Christian, but still I might appear cold 
and reserved, if I were to see you, for I 
should feel, Louisa, that you could no 
longer sympathize with me in my Dai- 
syism, I suppose I must call it, for I know 
but little of other isms, and shall want to 



64 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

know still less, if they are all troublesome 
like this. How is it, Louisa, that you, 
being one year older than myself, have set- 
tled into a character; while I am a poor 
reed, shaken by every wind. 

Your letter found me all engrossed with 
the world. For two whole days 1 had not 
found a thought for anything but nay 
sonal appearance. Joseph.]' no had found 
what she called a splendid hat, with fea- 
thers to match : and I. of course, was not 
to be satisfied with merely an inferior one, 
though it might have formed a striking con- 
trast. Aunt was deeply enlisted in the 
secret, and every milliner's shop in the city- 
had been thrown into confusion. I had 
just lighted on azure blue, and had come 
home in raptures to compare it with Jo- 
scarlet, when lo ! upon my dressing-table I 
saw a letter from Linden. For a moment, 
I felt ashamed that merely a letter from 
Aunt Julia's neighborhood should see me 
so feverish about so small a matter. 

You might have spared me the pain of 
your shocking contrasts, Louisa — as Aunt 
Portman would say. They were not in 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 65 

good taste. But I ought to be serious 
here. You will excuse me, if I laugh in the 
wrong place ; especially if I engage to cry- 
out of season to make amends. The truth 
is, Louisa, I have trouble enough in trying 
to drive such thoughts from my mind. 
What need to make myself miserable with 
thoughts of the grave, the winding-sheet, 
and the moldering form beneath the coffin- 
lid ? 

Aunt Portman does not believe that we 
shall be punished in the world to come 
merely for making ourselves happy in this. 
And, after all, Louisa, it is but little happi- 
ness that we get. Sometimes I think that 
if this is all of life, it is no such bad thing 
to die : not that I am willing or can even 
bear the thought of dying. 

Your letter made me feel dreadful, 
Louisa, I must confess ; and I had more 
than half a mind to do as you told me ; but 
just as I was feeling the worst, a letter was 
brought me from father. He thinks it 
best for me to stay with Aunt Portman, 
and fit myself for — I don't know what — 
endless misery, perhaps. Father wishes me 
5 



66 CHRISTIAN' LOVB. 

to follow Aunt Julia's directions in every- 
thing, excepting that which pertains to 
fashionable life. I am to shine here, and 
my Aunt Portman is selected as the po- 
lisher. 

I mean to visit Linden the ensuing 
winter, in spite of all opposition. I know- 
that it will be considered a shocking waste 
of time, as I am just beginning to dance in 
public, and this is the season for balls ; 
but I shall come and see my dear Aunt 
Julia, whom I love better than anybody else 
in the world. 

I should be glad to receive a letter from 
you very often, dear Louisa ; but please be 
a little less solemn, and I will be a little 
more serious if I can. 

Your friend, 

Daisy. 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 67 



LETTER X. 
TO DAISY, FROM HER AUNT JULIA. 

My Dear Daisy, — A company of your 
young friends spent last evening with me, 
and Louisa tarried over night. She gave 
me your last letter to read, and entreated 
me to answer it. I recollect, dear, that I 
have written to you but one, and that a 
very short letter, since you have been at 

B , and the reason is this : I have found 

no refuge from my deep anxiety for you, 
but in constantly committing you to the 
Lord. I have been afraid to speak, and 
almost to think, of the snares laid for your 
inexperienced feet; and even now, my 
dear Daisy, I am at a loss what to say. 
You complain to Louisa that you are with- 
out character, and find yourself as a reed 
shaken by the wind; and yet two years 
ago, my Daisy, you gave promise of a cha- 
racter established upon the sure basis of 
right principle. You were not afraid to 
meet present responsibilities, and thought it 
no hard thing, that, as an immortal being, 



68 CHRISTIAN LUVll. 

you were called to bear them, and to act 
well your part. You felt yourself possessed 
of a present power of doing good, of enjoy- 
ing and imparting happiness. How is it, 
my dear, that you have become such a piti- 
able object, " a reed shaken by the wind ?" 
I will tell you, Daisy ; you are mocking tin- 
wants of your spirit by forcing it to feed 
upon the wind. In other days, before you 
were taught to make that poor spirit the 
slave of your meaner wants, it was allowed 
to think and act, and form its character for 
eternity. But now you speak of yourself 
as without a character ; no, my dear, your 
spirit is suffering a sad change. It will 
soon stand out before the world, stamped 
with a new character, and sealed, perhaps, 
for time and for eternity. 

You may think me severe ; but, Daisy, 
you are no longer a child. You are now 
fifteen years of age, and God has endowed 
you with capacities far above your years. 
But how are you hiding the talents com- 
mitted to your trust ! 

In your first letter to me, you spoke of 
difficulties in the way of prayer : and now, 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 69 

Daisy, allow me to ask if you were really 
sincere in asking my guidance in this 
thing ? There was a contest between your 
heart and the Holy Spirit. There was 
something demanded which you would not 
yield. You know what it was. Perhaps 
you saw that the time had come, when you 
must either cast off fear and restrain 
prayer, or obey the first and great com- 
mandment. But, whatever it might be, my 
dear child, it was plain to your understand- 
ing ; for the path of divine requirement is 
made plain, even to the fool and the way- 
faring man. Was it honest, then, to ask 
Aunt Julia what you should do? You 
know well, Daisy, that but two ways were 
open to you — -the way of obedience and 
life, or disobedience and death ; the nar- 
row way of wisdom and peace, or the 
broad, frequented road. You were not 
ready to make choice of the former, and 
you feared a deliberate choice of the latter. 
So your deceitful heart dictated a middle 
course : you would delay a decision by ask- 
ing advice ; you would avoid the great 
question at issue between God and your 



70 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

immortal soul, by coming to him, not in 
the deep, sincere language of the heart, but 
merely with a lip service, declining all 
controversy. What dreadful mockery this ! 
I would not, my dear Daisy, thus lay open 
to you the deep hypocrisy of the human 
heart, if I could in any way persuade you 
to examine yourself. But you seem to 
think that your only chance of happiness, of 
rest from an accusing conscience, is in 
keeping your eyes securely closed. You 
seem to desire the spirit of slumber, and are 
even trying to lull yourself with the unbe- 
lief of another : " Aunt Portman does not 
believe that God will punish us for making 
ourselves happy" Neither does Aunt 
Julia, my dear child ; but she believes, from 
God's own word, that the poor heart can 
bring punishment on itself forever and 
ever. 

You know, Daisy, that the Prodigal 
Son had a rich inheritance in his father's 
house ; but he wandered from his home, and 
spent all his goodly substance in riotous 
living ; then came the misery of starvation, 
and the disgusting companionship with 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 71 

swine. Did the kind father appoint his son 
to such a miserable lot, or was it the dregs 
of his chosen cup? You know well that 
the father's heart yearned over that profli- 
gate son, and with pitying tenderness wel- 
comed his return. 

Thus is it with human hearts, my child. 
Our Heavenly Father seeks to secure our 
eternal happiness by fixing our love in him. 
He urges us, by the strongest motives, to 
make his love an early choice. Little 
children are invited to come. He would 
make sure of the lambs, before they are ex- 
posed to ravening wolves. But if that best 
period is passed, the sceptre of mercy is 
still extended. He calls himself our father, 
and offers to be the guide of our youth. 
We may turn away and follow objects of 
our own choice, we may run into by and 
forbidden paths, but his Spirit pursues us, a 
thousand motives are urged to lure us back, 
and when a wanderer turns at the voice of 
that Spirit's reproof, the same love wel- 
comes his return, the angels rejoice over 
him, and he is conducted into the green 
pastures, and by the still waters of peace. 



72 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

But, my dear Daisy, what of those who 
close their eyes, and ears, and rush madly 
on ? One earthly hope proves a shadow, 
and they fly to another, and another. One 
reed, upon which they lean, pierces them 
through with many sorrows ; but they 
solace their hearts with earthly love, make 
the world a cure for its own woes, and ask 
no higher support. By-and-by the world 
passes away ; its pleasures pall, its flowers 
wither, its hopes decay, — and where is the 
heart's love then ? The spirit enters upon 
untried scenes. Is it fitted now to pour out 
a full tide of affection upon the holy and 
the pure ? 

No, my Daisy, the soul must be educated 
for heaven, or it has no portion there ; and 
if found at last in the dark region of 
despair, where every object repels its love, 
and sends back that love to gnaw like an 
undying worm forever and ever, that soul 
will know itself sealed to such a doom by 
its own free choice. 

Will you think of this, Daisy ? Will you 
do more, my dear child ; will you turn at 
once from these dangerous paths and give 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 73 

your heart to God ? If you could see your 
friend Louisa, I am sure that you would 
think your present happiness but a poor 
thing compared to that which beams from 
her loving eyes, and shines out in all her 
actions. She shows the blessed effect of 
Divine love upon her heart, by an ardent 
interest in the welfare of her young friends. 
She seems willing to bear the reproach of 
Christ ; and, I have no doubt, will soon see 
the reward of her faithful efforts, in the con- 
version of many. There is deep serious- 
ness and fixed attention among the mem- 
bers of Mr. Jones's Bible class, and the in- 
fluence is felt in the Sabbath school. How 
much it w T ould rejoice our hearts to see 
these precious lambs safely inclosed in the 
Redeemer's fold ! I believe that we shall see 
many of them thus blessed before the winter 
is gone. But O ! to think that my dear 
Daisy is so exposed to the power of him who 
goeth about seeking whom he may devour ; 
and so willing to be led captive at his will ! I 
will not say that I can do but little for you, 
my dear child, while I can pray : and I am 
not alone here, — Mr. Jones and Louisa are 



74 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

united with me in this one thing which J 
have so ardently desired of the Lord ; 
namely, the conversion of your precious 
soul to Him. 

Come and see me as you have promised, 
and believe me, as ever, your affectionate 

Aunt Julia. 



LETTER XI. 

MARTHA TO JULIA. 

My Dear Friend, — I have only time to 
write a line. My dear brother Frederick, 
who we flattered ourselves was recover- 
ing, has returned in fixed consumption. 
The poor, dear boy had heard his sister 
Martha discourse so pathetically on the 
beauties of nature, as displaying the great 
power and goodness of God, that he 
pected to find me competent to teach him 
the way to be saved. Ah, Julia dear, I see 
that my religion, though it can well bear 
the moonlight of the prairie, must wither 
in the sunlight of eternity. It is of no use 
to tell poor Fred, that God is love., and very 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 75 

merciful ; he says, that he wants to feel 
that love in his heart, and to know that 
His mercy is extended to him. And of 
what avail is it, that I can talk so elegantly 
of the love of God to me, if I can say no- 
thing of my love for Him ? My brother 
reasons very justly, that love so infinite de- 
serves love in return, and his restless anx- 
iety fills me with unutterable distress. 
What shall I do, Julia ? How can my dear 
brother know that his sins are forgiven, for 
nothing else will satisfy him now ? 

What can impart to him those bright 
anticipations of home, that gladdened your 
father upon his bed of death ? I will con- 
fess to you my firm belief, that I have never 
entered by the door into the sheep-fold, and 
I am not willing to aid the dying in climb- 
ing up some other way. Write imme- 
diately. I pledge myself to follow your ad- 
vice. With intense anxiety, your friend, 

Martha. 



76 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 



LETTER XII. 

JULIA TO MARTHA. 

My Dear Martha, — Why should three 
weeks of most precious time be wasted in 
waiting for my advice ? What if I could 
write a sermon for you equal in eloquent 
power to those of Paul, would the object of 
your heart's desire be thus gained ? I be- 
lieve, Martha, that it would not. God has 
returned your brother to you for the two- 
fold purpose of securing his salvation, and 
your own. By this most painful test, He 
shows you the ground of your hopes ; how 
the poor, shrinking spirit refuses to tread the 
only path you have learned to walk. Why 
should you wait to hear from me, Martha, 
when the Spirit of God urges you to enter 
by the door, that you may be able to guide 
your brother in the only true way. You 
will confess to me that you have never en- 
tered by the door into the sheep-fold. Your 
confession must be broader than that, dear 
Martha, or it will avail you nothing. You 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 77 

should confess to God the deep guilt of re- 
jecting the only Door of hope, and seeking 
to climb up some other way. Your bro- 
ther, all with whom you associate should 
see your rejection of every foundation but 
that laid in Zion for the hope of the guilty. 
You have pledged yourself to follow my 
advice. It is this. Make no delay, but come 
to God through Jesus Christ ; submit your- 
self, fully and without reserve, to Him. Do 
this, and you will be able from your own 
experience to tell your dear brother how a 
sinner knows his sins forgiven. You will 
understand for yourself, Martha, the nature 
of that peace, which is the first-fruit of the 
Spirit. Your brother Frederic can do the 
same. He has no need to wait for Martha, 
to drink at the fountain, while he is perish- 
ing of thirst. There is but one way — re- 
pentance towards God, and faith in our 
Lord Jesus Christ ; this, and this only se- 
cures to us an heirship to an inheritance 
incorruptible, undefined, and that fadeth not 
away. May it be yours ! 

Your affectionate friend, 

Julia. 



78 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 



LETTER XIII. 
DAISY'S FATHER TO JULIA. 

My Dear Sister, — I am not ungrateful for 
the tender care bestowed by you upon my 
dear child, and were she to be educated for 
the quiet of domestic life alone, I could not 
find for her a more competent teacher than 
yourself. I know that you would not fail 
in making her a dutiful child, an intelligent, 
interesting companion, a noble-minded, con- 
scientious woman, and an efficient house- 
keeper. Such was her mother, — a woman 
that could make home second only to Para- 
dise! I have no objection either to that 
sweet, dreamy piety, whose ideal love only 
added purity and fervency to that which is 
real. But you know, my dear sister, that a 
blight has come over my paradise. Home 
is no longer a magic name, and henceforth 
I must live in other scenes. If there is any- 
thing of happiness left in this frost-bitten 
world, I must seek it out, and make it 
secure. 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 79 

Daisy is beautiful and sprightly. I shall 
have wealth for her, and henceforth our 
residence must be in the city. I cannot 
wish her to be excluded from society, or 
that she should mingle with any but the 
best ; and my ambition requires her to be 
among the most attractive, even there. 
For this reason, and this only, have I con- 
fided her to my sister Portman's care ; but 
still, knowing that woman cannot always 
shine as a star of the first magnitude in the 
fashionable horizon, I would have her quali- 
fied for other spheres of action. May I 
hope, that in all things relating to moral 
culture and domestic education, my sis- 
ter Julia will be to her as she has long been 
— a counselor and guide? I hope in one 
year more (at farthest) to thank you in per- 
son for your kindness to Daisy ; in the 
mean time believe me your obliged and 
grateful brother. H. E. G. 



80 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

LETTER XIV. 

JULIA'S ANSWER. 

My Dear Brother, — Most gladly would I 
retain my post as counselor and guide to 
our dear Daisy, but I ought in good faith to 
inform you, that my counsel must greatly 
interfere with her present pursuits, and my 
guidance (if followed) would lead her at 
once and forever from the paths of your 
choice ; for you must know, my brother, that 
what is to you only a very li pleasant ideal- 
ity," is to me real, far beyond anything 
pertaining to the present life ; and I feel 
myself under obligations the most sacred to 
treat it as a reality in my intercourse with 
all. This reality does not appear to me in- 
vested with the rainbow-tinted drapery <>i" 
dreams. I see it as the spirit's pathway 
home ; and no pathway of velvet softness 
either, though it brightens more and more, 
and leads to perfect day. It is a way cast 
up in the wilderness for the ransomed of 
the Lord ; and because the world's wilder- 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 81 

ness affords no water for the spirit's thirst, 
and no manna of itself for her perishing 
want, she is forbidden to tarry in all 
this plain, or to gather any garlands from 
these " frost-bitten " bowers. So, then, my 
brother, if Mrs. Portman succeeds in mak- 
ing poor Daisy a star in the world's firma- 
ment, I have but little hope that she will 
deck my crown of rejoicing in the day 
when the Saviour makes up his jewels. 
The flashing meteors of the present world, 
which borrow their fleeting brightness from 
earth's tinsel, have their doom assigned : 
" Wandering stars are they, to whom is re- 
served the blackness of darkness forever." 

And this is the lot chosen for my Daisy, 
the child of many prayers. Yet I had 
hoped to see her a far different light in this 
benighted world. I had hoped, my brother, 
that she would place her affections on 
things* above, before the world should be- 
come to her, what it is to you — "frost-bit- 
ten," and seared by mildew and blight. 
Shall it not be so ? Permit me to urge my 
deep love for your child, and the memory 
of her mother in heaven ; and by these 
6 



82 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

conjure you not to compel our Daisy to 
wring out eternal poverty from the world's 
wealth, to drink the cup of bitter dregs, 
to sow the wind and reap the whirlwind, — 
for such is the labor, and such the reward 
of those who wander from God, the foun- 
tain of living waters, and hew to themselves 
broken cisterns which hold no water. 
Your affectionate sister, 

Julia H. Wood. 



LETTER XV. 
LOUISA TO HELEN BATES. 

My Dear Friend, — I felt very sure that 
Mr. Jones would not pass through the 

town of T m without giving you a call ; 

and I was glad, Helen, that you treated him 
with so much frankness. It is but just 
that his pupils should show him this atten- 
tion, for where could we find one more 
deeply interested for us? You were not 
afraid of him, Helen, as you used to be — 
afraid that he would urge you to seek the 
Lord in your youth, and I am glad of that. 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 83 

This shyness of manners must deeply 
wound the feelings of those who are seek- 
ing our best good, and it is greatly in the 
way of our own happiness. 

Mr. Jones thinks, dear Helen, that your 
sins are forgiven ; but he says that you 
should consider your evidence small, com- 
pared to mine. Do you know, dear, that 
to whom much is forgiven, the same loveth 
much? You were always a quiet, con- 
scientious girl, Helen. Everything but 
your natural heart has always been on the 
side of religion ; so your change was not 
from thick darkness to light, but from twi- 
light to morning dawn. 

I think,. Helen, dear, that a work of grace 
was begun in your heart long ago, and you 
did not oppose that work as many do. 
Your principal guilt was in refusing to give 
the Saviour your whole heart. But you 
have seen this wrong, and now desire, 
above all things, to be his entirely. 

Mr. Jones says that you need more faith ; 
and I heard him tell Timothy Saunders last 
week that he must believe in the very first 
light received, — no matter how faint that 



84 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

light, if he felt the slightest emotion of love 
towards God and his people, he ought to 
believe in it, and rejoice over it, — and faith 
and gratitude would increase the light of 
love. Timothy, and most of the Bible- 
class members are now serious inquirers. 
Henry is still indifferent, and I fear that he 
will become hardened in sin. The case 
with poor Henry is this : a number of 
young men from Harebell Plains came over 
and proposed a ball for New -Year's eve ; 
but such is Mr. Jones's influence among the 
young people, that the proposal was not 
warmly seconded here. I am sorry to say, 
however, that Henry, though he had before 
manifested some seriousness, and gave re- 
spectful attention to Mr. Jones's instructions, 
now took sides against him, and tried, by 
every means, to enlist the Bible class for the 
ball. Mr. Jones said but little ; but we 
knew very well that the case was submit- 
ted to God, and had not many fears for the 
issue. Only three of the class professed 
themselves determined to go : these were, 
Henry, Mary Motley, and Emma Cleav- 
land. 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 85 

In the mean time, Mary wrote to Daisy 
and begged her to be present, and as there 
was a ball in question, Mrs. Portman's 
leave was easily obtained. A week be- 
fore New- Year's, Daisy arrived, and I saw 
her first in the Bible class. I am sure that 
I was not the only one who had to endure 
the heart-ache on that day. Mr. Jones saw 
the great change in Daisy, and sighed 
deeply, as she seated herself among us. 
There was such a listlessness of manner, 
such an evident desire to attract attention 
and secure admiration even in the house of 
God, such a profusion of ornament and 
costly apparel, that I could not help asking 
myself, Is this our pretty, simple-hearted 
Daisy ? 

O, Helen, dear, I know that the love of 
the world must be enmity to God. I saw 
Daisy several times during the week ; but I 
could see but little resemblance to the Daisy 
of former times. It is true that she seemed 
very affectionate towards her Aunt Julia, 
and somewhat afflicted that she should be 
the cause of so much grief and anxiety; 
but her love of pleasure was superior to 



86 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

every other love, and she kept herself 
busily employed in preparing for the ball. 
Towards the last of the week, she seemed 
absorbed with the pleasurable thought that 
she should outshine Linden and Harebell 
Plains. 

Another Sabbath came, and we were all 
in the class again. But Daisy could not 
hide the struggle going on in her heart. I 
understand it all, Helen : Daisy had been 
the subject of almost incessant prayer 
during that last week, and she was now 
contending with the Spirit of God ; and in 
this foolish contention she was not alone. 

After the close of the Sabbath school, 
Mr. Jones requested his class to tarry. 
When we were quite alone, he spoke to 
each separately of the great danger atten- 
dant on trifling with our day of grace. He 
told us, that with some of his class the de- 
cisions of that Sabbath were of awful im- 
portance. He then spoke plainly and 
pointedly of the amusement proposed for 
the next evening — of its character, and ten- 
dency ; and then asked, solemnly, who 
among us were resolved to go. You may 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 87 

judge of our feelings, dear Helen, when 
Henry Saunders, Daisy, and Emma Cleav- 
land rose to their feet. Mary Motley sat 
next me. I threw my arms around her, 
and, in spite of all that I could do, burst 
into tears. Mr. Jones sat down and co- 
vered his face with his hands, and all but 
Timothy, Mary, and myself left the room. 
We sat in silence for some time ; Mary was 
trembling and weeping in my arms. When 
Mr. Jones knelt down to pray, I kept my 
arms around Mary, and found, to my great 
joy, that she could not refuse to bow with 
us before the Lord. When we arose, she 
told Mr. Jones that she should not go to 
the ball, and she meant from that hour to 
seek an interest in Christ. This was a 
balm to his wounded feelings, and he ex- 
horted Timothy and me with tears to conti- 
nue instant in prayer. 

I began, by this time, Helen, to feel that 
it was no small thing to be a laborer in the 
vineyard of the Lord ; but how honored I 
felt in being permitted to do and bear 
something for Him, who had borne the 
cross and endured the shame for me ! 



88 CHRISTIAN i.u\ E 

I spent the next day with Daisy and her 
aunt. Poor Daisy seemed desperate, and 
at times impatient with our " solemn si- 
lence," as she called it; I think, however, that 
it was not silence which so disturbed her 
feelings, — she knew well that we were 
hourly presenting her case to God. 

Mr. Jones had engaged some pious per- 
sons in our immediate neighborhood to meet 
on New- Year's eve at Miss Julia Wood's, 
and in view of circumstances so painfully 
interesting to every Christian heart, to 
spend the last hours of the closing year in 
prayer. At eight o'clock, quite a number 
had assembled. Daisy softly opened the 
door, and, beckoning me out, begged to 
know if I would go up stairs and assist her 
for a few moments. The poor girl needed 
my assistance, for her trembling hands 
seemed unable to perform the work as- 
signed them. I arranged her long hair in 
graceful curls, and with a heavy heart fes- 
tooned her satin frock with artificial 
flowers. I then placed her before the mir- 
ror, that she might see her outward adorn- 
ing complete. She tried to smile, hut 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 89 

seemed dissatisfied with her appearance. 
" I look so worn and sad," said she ; " a 
plague upon country, balls. I think, Louisa, 
that there is an appropriate time for every- 
thing ; when one day in seven is set apart 
for religious contemplations, what need is 
there to force religion into every day of 
the week!" I did not think it necessary 
to make any reply to this, for I knew very 
well that her own conscience had long in- 
structed her as to the reason why religion 
should be made the business of every-day 
life. I wanted to be with the rational, 
happy company below ; but, as I opened the 
door to depart, the voice of their singing 
came full and clear upon us. The words 
were these : — ■ 

" He, who all your lives has strove, 
Wooed you to embrace his love ; 
Will ye not his grace receive ? 
Will ye still refuse to live ? 
Why, ye long-sought sinners, why 
Will ye cross his love and die?" 

Daisy's pale cheek grew still paler, and 
she stood gazing at me as though nailed to 
the spot. I entreated her to go down stairs 



90 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

with me, just till Henry and Emma should 
come. She objected, on account of her 
dress ; but I threw a large shawl over her, 
and drew her along. If you had been pre- 
sent at our meeting that evening, dear 
Helen, you would have wondered at the 
power of faith, and would have thought 
with me that the young Christian should 
lose no time in possessing himself of such a 
shield. At a little past nine, a sleigh drove 
up, and the door-bell rang. I knew Henry's 
voice as he inquired for Daisy, and open- 
ing the door of our prayer-room, with a 
feeling of Christian triumph, I pointed her 
out. Henry and Emma both saw her 
there, decked in gold, and pearls, and costly 
array, but bowing as a penitent before the 
Lord, and seeking pardon in silent prayer 
and bitter tears. Emma was quite over- 
come, and allowed me to take off her hood 
and cloak, and lead her into the room, 
where she soon found a place beside Daisy, 
at the foot of the cross. But Henry harden- 
ed his heart, and drove away. I hope, 
dear Helen, that your next vacation will be 
spent at home. We are having such a 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 91 

happy winter. Miss Martha Vernon, whose 
family moved from the town some seven or 
eight years since, is now visiting Miss Julia 
Wood. She was at the teachers' meeting 
last evening, and gave us an interesting ac- 
count of the sickness, conversion, and 
happy death of her brother Frederic. She 
is now a very devoted Christian, though 
she told us that she had known the Savi- 
our's love for only a few months. The 
Saviour's love, dear Helen ! what a love is 
that ! how it sends us away from self to seek 
and save the lost ! Well may we exclaim, 
" Behold, what manner of love the Father 
hath bestowed upon us, that we should be 
called the sons of God !" 

Daisy is fully resolved to give up all for 
Christ. She has written a long letter to 
her aunt Portman, and received one in re- 
turn, accusing her of ingratitude and dis- 
obedience. This is a trial to poor Daisy. 
She is unwilling to offend her father ; but 
she feels now that the Saviour has a greater 
claim upon her love, than either father or 
mother. Write soon dear Helen. 

Your friend, Louisa. 



92 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 



LETTER XVI. 
JOSEPHINE TO DAISY. 

My Dear Cousin, — I could scarcely be- 
lieve mamma, when she told me that you 
had come to be such a little fool. You must 
be tired of your new character by this time ; 
so I write to tell you, that we will say no 
more about it, if you will only come back. 
Indeed, Daisy, you ought to come, for mam- 
ma says, that there is a command in the 
Bible, for children to obey parents. I never 
saw nor heard of it ; but then if there is, 
and you are a Christian, it would be very 
convenient for you to obey it, to throw the 
whole blame of wrong doing upon your 
father, (mother didn't tell me that, I in- 
ferred it.) I want you to come back, coz, 
for I hate everybody and everything but 
you, and should in all probability hate you 
too, only that your style of beauty forms such 
a splendid contrast to mine. That elegant 
Ostenello asked me last evening if the star 
had blended with the rainbow, or why it 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 93 

was no longer visible. I told him that the 
star had entered a cloud ; but mother, who 
is sorely vexed with you, told him outright, 
that you had gone to Linden, and turned 
Methodist. I thought that he would have 
died of laughter. He said, that you would 
make a demure little saint ; and he would 
give the world to see you in this character. 
I have taken up sleeping with mamma since 
you went away. She says, that I shall be 
the death of her ; but it is no use to think 
of my lying awake alone. 

If you come back now, Daisy, people will 
think that you got up this religious farce 
for a joke. The Ellen w r oods are to give a 
splendid party next week, we received 
cards this morning ; and something more I 
must tell you. Your father is on his way 
home. In your letter to mother, you said 
that he was the subject of your daily pray- 
ers, and you believed that God was able to 
turn his heart from the love of this vain 
world. Anybody would think that you had 
been to Church twice a Sunday ever since 
you were born to have learned so much 
preaching ; but you ought to know, that 



94 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

nobody but a bishop has a right to talk in 
this way. Guess your father would give 
more for your obedience than your prayers, 
you little hypocrite. As for my visiting 
Linden, that is out of the question. My 
constitution would never endure a week of 
Sundays. I never told you, Daisy, what 
makes me so nervous, and afraid to stay 
alone ; but I will now, if you will promise 
not to tell. I have a notion that I shall die 
suddenly ; there is a strange, heavy beating 
about my heart after dancing, and a faint- 
ness that frightens me half to death : won't 
you come, Daisy? If anything should 
happen in that way, it would be shocking 
for mamma ; but she would have somebody 
to love if you were here ; and then, perhaps, 
we might, Daisy, talk about religious mat- 
ters when I feel so gloomy, and I might 
come to be less afraid of death. 

Come to the Ellenwoods' party. They 
are religious people, you know ; and you 
will not be obliged to dance, unless you 
choose. With much love, I remain your 

Josephine. 



I 



Qu*J 




CHRISTIAN LOVE. 97 



LETTER XVII. 

DAISY'S ANSWER. 

My Dear Cousin Josephine, — In reading 
your Bible, you will find that I arn not the 
first person who has been accounted a fool 
for Christ's sake. The wise and good of 
other days, counted such reproach as a 
small matter ; then, of course, a poor, weak 
child like me, should not be offended ; and 
since I have found such pure pleasure, dear 
Josephine, in doing the will of my Heaven- 
ly Father, I have no feelings but those of 
tender pity for the hearts that go astray from 
Him. There is a command in the Bible to 
children ; you will find it in Eph. vi, 1 : 
"Children, obey your parents in the Lord, 
for this is right." And I am happy to tell 
you, Josephine, that it will not, henceforth, 
be necessary to disobey God in order to 
obey my father. 

The Lord has heard the voice of my sup- 
plication. My father is with us now, very 
feeble in health it is true, but in every 
7 



98 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

other respect greatly changed for the bet- 
ter. I only prayed for his conversion, and 
left the means with God. He found it ne- 
cessary to bring my dear father to the very 
gates of death, and to hold him there long 
enough to see the past and the future ; and 
he has told us how he felt, when standing 
upon the verge of time. His past life 
seemed like a bubble, which his spirit had 
used as a toy. He had freighted this bub- 
ble with the priceless wealth of an immor- 
tal soul, and now it was about to be launch- 
ed upon the broad ocean of eternity, where 
it would quickly burst, and its treasure be 
lost. In his distress he cried unto the Lord 
for a longer space, that he might redeem the 
past. His prayer was heard, and he is 
now laying up a treasure in heaven : but 
while he sorrows over the time so foolishly 
wasted, he rejoices greatly, that I have 
chosen the path of peace in my youth ; and, 
Josephine, dear, it is a path of peace. I 
have known something of the same torment- 
ing fear that drives sleep from your pillow. 
You must be at peace with God, dear 
cousin. Give your poor, beating heart to 



CHRISTIAN LOVE. 99 

Him, and see how safe you will feel when 
it is in his holy keeping. Death might 
then come at any watch. Its heart strings 
might suddenly be snapped asunder, but the 
heart's treasure would be secure, and all 
would be well. 

I cannot come to the Ellenwood party, 
dear Josey ; it would be such a mean plea- 
sure to me now ; and, I doubt not, but that 
it would be more pain than pleasure ; for 
since I have come to love the Saviour, it 
grieves me to see people wasting time so 
foolishly. I would gladly do them good ; 
but know that I cannot make them happy 
by eating with them the evil fruits of un- 
righteousness, envyings, hatred, variance, 
wrath, emulation, strife, &c. ; but I can 
make myself happy and forever blest by 
winning them to taste with me the peace- 
able fruits of the Holy Spirit, of which love 
is the first : — 

" My passions hold a pleasing reign, 
When love inspires my breast, — 
Love, the divinest of the train, 
The sov'reign of the rest. 



100 CHRISTIAN LOVE. 

" This is the grace must live and sing, 
When faith and hope shall cease, 
And sound from every joyful string 
Through all the realms of bliss. 

■ Sink down, ye separating hills ; 
Let sin and death remove ; 
'Tis love that drives my chariot wheels, 
And death must yield to love." 

I want you, and your dear mother, to 
come and taste with us, and see that the 
Lord is good. Father and aunt Julia 
join in this heart-felt desire. Your affec- 
tionate cousin. Daisy. 



THE END. 



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